


Rest Calm

by sheiruki



Series: How it began [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, It's mentioned so often it deserves its own tag, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Soup, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22160695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheiruki/pseuds/sheiruki
Summary: Spending that afternoon out in the cold with Rashkan has left Savos bedridden. Feeling guilty, Rashkan visits him.
Relationships: Savos Aren/Original Male Character(s)
Series: How it began [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584193
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Rest Calm

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little "What happened after" for The Ghosts of Home and Chasing the Storm Away. Knowledge of those fics is not required, but they add some more context (reading them will also make this humble author incredibly happy!).
> 
> Enjoy!

Rashkan was running up the narrow stairway leading to the archmage’s quarters, racing against the heat emitted by the bowl of soup, heat that threatened to burn through his mittens.

The room was almost as hot as the bowl itself and as he entered Rashkan was greeted by a loud ‘Achoo’ coming from behind the wall separating the archmage’s private area from the rest of his quarters.

 _Poor Savos,_ thought Rashkan and hurried; his fingers were getting too hot for comfort. He soon found the archmage lying in bed, face flushed, blanket pulled all the way up to his chin.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he said with a faint smile. At the sight, Rashkan felt a surge of warmth rushing through his chest. Savos’ eyes wandered from Rashkan’s face all the way down to the colourful mittens holding the steaming bowl and back to his face again.

“Oh, thank you. Very considerate.” His smile became a slightly bemused grin.

Rashkan placed the soup on the nightstand, next to a half-empty potion bottle and a teacup filled with dubious amounts of honey residue.

Savos sat up and leaned against the headboard. He did not wear his usual regalia or even a wizard robe, no, instead he was dressed in a washed-out blue nightgown. In his current state it was easy to forget that he was not just a sick elderly Dunmer, but one of the most powerful mages in all of Skyrim. And somehow Rashkan had managed to make him fall in love with him.

What a surreal thought! Perhaps the last few days had been nothing but a pleasant dream he was soon going to wake from? He had expected the college to grant him knowledge and understanding of his condition, along with control over the powers that came with it. Acceptance? A home? Even love? Those things were far more than anything he had ever anticipated or thought possible. And yet...

“You should eat your soup while it is still hot,” he suggested, pointing at the steaming bowl.

Savos nodded and folded his blanket to shield himself from the heat, before placing the bowl of soup in his lap. Rashkan handed him a spoon, disappeared behind the stone wall and returned with one of the few stray chairs spread across the chamber.

He watched as Savos gobbled up the soup, glad that the illness had not robbed him of his appetite.

“Tasty. Did you make it yourself?”

Rashkan took a deep breath.

“No. It was made by the gourmet himself and delivered by the fastest courier in all of Skyrim, who braved ferocious beasts, icy storms and -worst of all- drunk nords, just to bring it to you. And look, it is still warm. You should consider tipping the lad.”

Savos cocked an eyebrow.

Rashkan responded with a sigh.

“Not funny? A shame. They say humour is the best medicine there is.”

“I have a cold, not the Knahaten fluuuh- Achoo!”

Just in time, Savos managed to cover his nose with the bend of his elbow.

Rashkan handed him a hankerchief and furrowed his brows.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Savos asked and took another spoonful of soup.

“You would not be in this situation if it were not for me.” Rashkan regarded the potion bottle. ‘Cure Disease’, no doubt. He wondered how long it would need to take effect. “It is my fault you have to drink this foul-tasting concoction and -”

“Oh please,” Savos interrupted sounding a little shocked. “If I had not stayed out in the cold with you that afternoon” he laid a hand on Rashkan’s cheek and directed his gaze towards his own “Then there would be no ‘us’. If you think I’d regret that decision over a few days spent in bed, be assured: I’d do it all again.”

Rashkan smiled and leaned into the warm, gentle touch, enjoying this small moment of intimacy.

_So would I._

He bent down an planted a kiss on the archmage’s temple, causing his cheeks to turn a deep shade of bordeaux. Flustered, Savos focused his attention on the soup, took a few bites and turned back to Rashkan.

“Could you do me a favour? On my desk you’ll find a pile of letters. Mirabelle is going to rip my ears off if I leave them unattended much longer.”

“Umm, Savos? You are ill. You should really not – “

“They’ve been lying there for almost a week.”

“Oh. In that case,” he muttered and got up. “If that is your wish, I will fetch them.”

He walked past the stone wall and past the garden that had been the catalyst for their unexpected relationship.

_I should add some extra fertilizer next Morndas._

The letters were neatly stacked on the round table Savos considered a desk. A thin layer of dust suggested they had not been touched in a while. Or ever.

The golden seal of the Thalmor embassy immediately caught the tall dunmer’s eye.

_Oh, wonderful. Poor, poor Savos._

He grabbed the letters, blew the dust off, and returned to his seat.

Savos, meanwhile, was enjoying the last remnants of his soup.

“One is from the Thalmor embassy”, Rashkan announced. The archmage’s expression turned sour. “Another is from the jarl, and one bears the seal of the Imperial Legion.”

“To Oblivion with them all!”, Savos snapped. “The college is a place of learning, not foolish political intrigue! How often must I repeat myself until they finally understand?!?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath trying to calm down. “Are there any more?” he asked, notably irritated.

“One more,” answered Rashkan. It was merely a piece of parchment, written in neat hand. The words, however, were confusing.

“Rashkan? What’s wrong?” Savos asked in between sips.

For a second, there was silence.

“Who is Kraldar and why is he asking you out for dinner?”

Savos choked, resulting in a coughing fit that drove tears to his eyes. He buried his face in his hands and let out a tortured wail.

“Savos? Savos???”

“Not _AGAIN_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> At first I wanted to add more angst, but since Savos is a walking angst magnet and the CoW questline offers more than enough possibilities to torture my OTP, I decided to make this fluffy and slightly humorous.
> 
> By the way, Kraldar, i.e. the imperial jarl, repeatedly inviting Savos to "join him for dinner" and repeatedly not getting a response, IS 100% CANON! I DIDN'T MAKE THAT UP! 
> 
> For that reason, I just wanted to mention that somewhere because it cracks me up everytime I think about it. Sempai won't notice him~


End file.
